4 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑻 ❶ - { ᵥ. ʙɴʜᴀ}

5. let's leave the rest to the imagination

"Do you like heroes?"

You furrow your eyebrows, bringing another spoonful of soup into your mouth. "What do you mean?"

Hawks sits across from you, causally eating his plate of meat and vegetables. "I'm asking if you like heroes. I've never heard you talk about them even though we're training to be one."

You pull a face, "I don't know what you're talking about. We talk about Endeavor all the time."

"Yeah, we only talk about Endeavor. Why don't we talk about the heroes you like?" he counters, muffling his speech with the food he's still chewing on.

Your lips curl in disgust, "Maybe, I just don't want to talk with a gross idiot who chews with his mouth open."

Hawks gulps down his food and pouts, "Just tell me what heroes you like, Psyche."

You roll your eyes, pausing a moment before muttering, "I like All Might."

"Boring!" Hawks sighs loudly, which makes your face twitch into an expression of pure irritation, "I don't believe you."

"Believe whatever you want, dummy."

-🥏-

Midoryia made quite a significant dent in the trash pile, but he's barely half way done. You went to beach pretty much everyday for the past three months. If you're being honest it's really boring watching someone painstakingly grow more muscular. You didn't participate much in your dad and Midoryia's training sessions; you wanted to make the most out of your break and relax. So, you spent your time at Takoba lounging, floating in the ocean (when Midoryia wasn't tearing up the waves with his aggressive laps), and texting Keigo.

"Y/N," your dad casts a shadow over you as you try to lay in the sun, "Can you do something for me?"

You shrug, "Sure, why not?" you stand, dusting the sand off your shorts, "What do you need, Dad?"

He points over at Midoryia, who tenses under the attention, "Spar with Young Midoryia, would you?"

"What?!" The boy squeaks.

"Alright," you say, unintentionally intimidating Midoryia by stretching your arms and cracking your knuckles, "But why?"

"Because," he explains like it's obvious, "he'll utilize and strengthen different muscles in a fight. And I've never seen you fight before, so I'm really curious!"

It's true. You refused to fight with your dad on multiple occasions because you didn't want to have him strain his body more than he already does. So, he's never seen the fruits of your labor at the Commission. You'll put on a show for sure, not only to impress him, but you probably need to prove that sending you away to a government facility since childhood was worth it.

You get into a wide stance, which Midoryia awkwardly tries to mimic.

"So, you want to fight with Quirks or No Quirks?"

"No Quirks?" he replies like it's a question, and you nod.

You charge first at an unexpected speed. The surety in your movements scares Midoryia instinctively, making him swing his fist carelessly as a reflex. Well, at least you know his fear response is fight...tracks. You dodge easily, taunting him with a weak jab to his ribs, egging him on to throw more punches. He does, and you duck under each one like it's a game, which Midoryia's badly losing.

You had your fun teasing the poor boy, so you quickly put him out of his misery. You swiftly grab hold of his arm, when he tries to land another hit, and use his body weight to toss him over your shoulder. He lands flat on his back, knocking the wind of his lungs (though, the sand cushioned the blow). You restrain him by pressing your shoe to his chest, while pulling up on the arm you grabbed previously; Midoryia winces lightly at the stretch.